


5, 4, 3, 2, 1

by Duckay



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Fluff, M/M, mindfulness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 00:38:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6543358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duckay/pseuds/Duckay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is worked up and needs help coming down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5, 4, 3, 2, 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on Tumblr -- Proceduralbob.

If he didn't stop pacing back and forth soon, there was going to be a big track left in the carpet that was probably not going to be cheap to fix. That thought struck Dean and he managed to crack a smile at himself, but he still made three more laps of the room before he willed himself to actually come to a stop.

Alright. Time to get your shit together, Ambrose.

He breathed deep through his nose and out through his mouth. Five, four, three, two, one. 

Five. Five came first. The window. The bed. The emergency exit floor plan. They were kind of all up in a row, making a sort of line. Across from that was the television cabinet. That was a different line. Tying that together was the mussed up line in the carpet where he'd dragged his foot on his way through. Did that count? Alright, probably not. Okay, then his jacket on the bed. It wasn't geometric and didn't tie anything together but it was a fifth thing so he could move on.

Four. The water running. That was filling his world, so he closed his eyes, trying to seek out more distant sounds. There was a female voice somewhere, maybe a neighbouring room had the TV on. The traffic from the road outside. He strained some more. There had to be a fourth sound somewhere. His own breathing. That was a sound. 

Three. His chest felt tight. No, that was the wrong sort of sensation. There was a cold breeze through the window, that was one. His boots were putting pressure on his feet. He kind of had to piss. Did that count? Well maybe that and the chest thing could be like half a mark each and so it added up.

Two. He inhaled deeply through his nose. Sweat. Sweat clung to him all over, even places that didn't make sense to be sweaty. Now that he thought about it, there was a whiff of something from the bathroom. Soap? Shampoo? It smelled like generic cleanliness.

One. Dean rolled his tongue around his mouth trying to figure it out. That coffee was still hanging around in there somewhere. It was dark and robust and a little too bitter.

He opened his eyes again. Well, he wasn't tracking an expensive hole into the floor anymore but he didn't exactly feel great. The water had stopped sometime between four and one. Now he could just hear Roman shuffling around in there.

Dean went and sat on the bed. His legs were dangling off the edge, and one foot started twitching. He glared at it, like that was going to shame it into stopping.

It didn't work.

The bathroom door opened with an almost comical puff of steam and Roman emerged. There was a towel wrapped around his waist in some vague deference to the fact that there was another person in the room, but when he crouched to go through his suitcase Dean couldn't help but notice that it was tied pretty loosely. As Roman stood up with his jeans in hand, Dean cleared his throat loudly and a little obnoxiously.

"Get comfortable or look away," Roman replied, not even glancing over his shoulder at Dean as he dropped the towel and started to get dressed. Dean didn't bother looking away.

Roman turned around as he was pulling the shirt over his head. Their eyes met and Roman's mouth pulled into a surprised sort of smirk. "What are you doing?"

Dean shrugged. "Getting comfortable."

His foot was still jiggling back and forth unbidden, and Roman looked down at it, raising his eyebrows. He looked up to make eye contact again. It seemed to Dean like he was faintly concerned about something he saw there. Since Dean assumed that he mostly just looked lascivious, he didn't know why. 

"Did you five-four-three --" Roman began, but Dean scoffed with a theatrical roll of his eyes, cutting him off.

"I did."

"Did you really?"

Yeah, because hassling him about it was going to make it more effective.

"Yes, I really. Look at me." Dean shuffled towards Roman on the bed, tilting his head up.

Roman frowned. "I am looking at you. You can't sit still and you're blinking too much."

Blinking too much. That was a new one. Dean got to his feet again, just for something to do. "Well, I'm breathing and I'm in one place."

He vaguely expected Roman to keep lecturing him, but instead he felt two soft hands on his shoulders, softer than he expected, like Roman was trying to cradle him without actually doing so. Dean looked down and realized his fingers were snapping at his side. He willed his arm to relax, and took a couple more deep breaths through his nose, just for good measure.

He could feel Roman breathing along with him, in the same rhythm.

When Roman finally spoke again, it was kind of a lecture, but a bit of a gentler one than Dean had expected. "You had two cups of coffee and nothing to eat."

"And two cigarettes," Dean added helpfully, and his lip quirked at the scowl that earned him.

"Probably because you'd had two cups of coffee and nothing to eat."

"Well, then it was only one cup of -"

Roman's hands dug into his shoulders a little more firmly, and Dean went quiet. He got the point.

Then Roman broke the silence with a kiss, pulling Dean into him and wrapping his arms tight around him like the last thing on his mind was letting him go. Dean pressed his whole body against the other man, lips giving away to tongues, hands burying in Roman's long hair.

They stayed like that until Dean felt like he was running short of breath, but in a much nicer way. He pulled away just far enough to inhale deeply before moving in again, pulling Roman towards the bed.

"We don't have time," Roman murmured against his neck as they landed in a puddle of limbs on the bed. Dean nipped at his throat in response, then moved back up to Roman's ear, then finally back to his beautiful full mouth.

The sensation of Roman's body over his was intoxicating enough without even taking into account the kiss. It was fast and hard, like Dean was taking all his excess energy and pouring it into the other man, and he was taking it - hard and sturdy and dependable.

The fact that it sent heat down Dean's body like nothing he'd ever experienced with anyone else didn't hurt, either.

"Calm me down," he murmured as they broke apart for a moment, pushing his hips up into Roman. He could feel that, despite his objections, Roman's body was on board with anything Dean had in mind.

That didn't really mean Roman's mind was, but if half the battle was won, that would make things easier.

"Come on," he added, in between trailing soft kisses along Roman's jawline. "You can't do that to me and not follow through anyway."

Then Roman's lips were on his again, probably to shut him up. But it was hard and yearning and Dean wasn't inclined to be complaining about getting kissed like that. Teeth scraped his lower lip, sending his hips up into the other man again. Then a tongue swiped over that spot, bringing out a soft moan. His fingers buried deeper into Roman's hair, digging into his scalp.

Dean had no idea how much time had passed by the time Roman pulled back and smiled down at him.

"There. You're calm."

Dean made a soft, whiny sound in response. He wanted to say that no, he damn well wasn't, because now he just wanted to fuck as well. That Roman had made things worse, not better.

But, then again, his chest didn't feel so tight and his legs and hands hung loosely without fidgeting.

He settled for, "fuck you, man," as he pushed Roman off so he could get dressed.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be honest, I have no idea what this is. I was feeling worked up and kept pacing around without achieving anything and so for some reason I decided to work through it by writing about someone else going through the same thing.


End file.
